BARNYARD JAVA: Day 9 (double), SAT 25JUL2015

The homey Victor from Spain had to head back to Jogja for school. He was one of the few guys here who was actually cool and knew how to share waves. A rarity in these parts.

Time: 0600-0900

Conditions: 3-4 FT+

Fins: JF-1 thrusters   

     I hit the snooze button once and fall into a very light sleep, and that’s when our bungalow starts shaking. It’s an earthquake. I wake Bri up. “Earthquake,” I say.

     “Yeah,” she says.

     “You feel it?”

     “Yeah.” Yet, Bri’s not moving. She doesn’t give a shit. There’s a rumbling noise everywhere. Our bungalow’s still swaying. The quake lasts a while, and then it just stops.

     Before we leave, I check the internet to make sure there aren’t any hazards. A report measures the quake at 5.7, 138 kilometers southwest of Jogjakarta. No tsunami warning.  

     The German duo and Sonja are the only ones out at the point. Sophi, the French obstacle, is sitting inside. As far as Claudia and Jan, this is their last morning here. They’re on longboards, milking this place as much as possible before the head out.

     Mark and Jonas arrive the same time we do. When we all get to the top of the wave, we trade off a bit. My first couple rides don’t line up well.

     I’m wearing Bri’s Roxy rashguard, my go-to equipment for the morning. Despite only barebacking it once out here, my fucking nipples hurt so much. I rub them whenever I’m sitting in the lineup. Pressing them into my chest, I feel that scabs and the sting from the salt water entering my torn nipple flesh.

     I turn and go on a small but rippable wave. Only problem is Sofi’s paddling right in my line. I draw a low line around her and fall behind the section. Fuck. I’m pissed at her. Even Bri had to kick out early on a wave because she was in the way, but what would you rather want? A noob in the way or a greedy surfer who takes every wave? Could be worse.

     The German duo exits the water early. Farewell. More waves for us. There’s a nice hour-long window with just the normal morning regulars, now minus Gigantar, the German duo, and French dickhead leaves today, too.

     The swell’s tapered off dramatically, but I snag a big handful of four footers, even doing the turn-and-go on the inside bonus section while paddling back out. I try to experiment with a carving 360, but blow both attempts terribly. I just don’t feel it, so I won’t try it. Stick to what I know. I meet my quota for snaps and wraps. Snaps and wraps, the Donny Duckbutter story.

     Edo, Randy, and Bintang paddle out, too, along with some new faces. Mark snakes me on a wave. It’s nothing new. Truth is, I kind of backpaddled him, but I’ve watched Mark blow so many sections when I should have gone that the tally can go in my favor if we were to count. Bottom line is, I should be able to back and sees me. I could kind of make the section, but his wake is making it difficult. I yell, “Go!” and kickout. I take the next wave, but it sections off and leaves me at the inside sandbank just in time to catch the next four-foot insider that no one at the top had caught. So I turn and go on this wave, and it’s fun and rippable. Three turns, no thigh burn.

     At the top of the wave, I see Randy talking to Mark. I have a feeling something’s up. Even though I can only see Randy’s back, his arms are crossed, and the body language just isn’t right.

     I paddle to the top and Mark comes over. “I didn’t mean to drop on you,” he says. “I just thought, you know, it was no big deal.”

     “I know,” I say. “That was actually your wave. I kind of backpaddled you, and the bonus wave I got was actually good.” Randy’s paddling over.

     “Okay,” says Mark, “because I didn’t mean to do it.”

     “Then why did you do it?” says Randy. I see the look in his face. He’s upset.

     “Don’t worry about it, Bro.”

     He catches the next wave, leaving me and Mark sitting out the back. Mark’s actually been really cool, the least of my worries. If anything, the locals, even Edo, have taken more waves from me than Mark. The fucking Germans have been the worst culprits.

     When Randy paddles back, he apologizes, and says that he just doesn’t like it. He tells me how before he had injured his ankle surfing one morning, that he was going to say something to some Aussie guy who kept snaking Sonja. I understand. He just doesn’t want to see anyone get burned. If Randy would’ve been here long enough to see Gigantar’s actions, he probably would have let him have it, too.

     The surf is actually getting cleaner. The window for good tide opens up. More new faces come out who I’ve never seen before. A guy on one of those progressive Vader boards with the chopped nose paddles out in a short-sleeve fullsuit. More white people from who knows where.

     After a long wave all the way inside, I find myself near Bri. I point to shore. We surfed for about three hours.

     Back at the compound, Victor the Spaniard says he’s leaving back to Jogja University. He thanks me and Bri for being nice to him. I had let him use the Xcel rashguard vest that Rick gave to me, and I also picked up a couple waterproof bandages for his chest rash. Bri snaps a photo of us. He’s a cool dude. It’s nice to meet good people when travelling. I tell him to hit me up if he ever comes to Cali and that I have way better boards for him to use.

Flies are a motherfucker in these parts...

CJ Hobgood's board was delivered to Edo shop for repair.

I couldn't resist. This is CJ HOBGOOD'S BOARD! With Edo, local board guru, and my brother Randy.

#

Time: 1600-1730

Conditions: 2-4 FT+

Fins: JF-1 thrusters

     I am not looking forward to the crowd at Choco Point. It’s the weekend, so it’s supposed to be crowded. My brother suggested surfing the beach break right in front of the compound. Bri and I take a look at it at about 1530, but it’s soft and disorganized. We can either not surf, surf out front where it’s shitty, or surf where there are good waves with a fucking crowd.

     It’s almost 1600 when we pull up to Chocos. With low tide being after dark, we expect the surf to be soft. Surprisingly, there are a few nugs out there. Six people are already on it.
 

Dang, I have zero patience in waiting for a set in the background. Gotta get out there.

     Mark and I usually shoot the shit in the water, but he’s purposely avoiding me. Maybe things are gonna be awkward between us from here on out.

     I begin the sesh by going for some inside waves, and one of them actually jacks up upon hitting the sandbank. I get a couple snappy turns and a few wraps, but what catches me offguard is that the wave is going hollow on the end section where it’s shallow. Instead of pulling in, I fade out and finish with another snap.

     Resurfacing, I see Jonas making his way back out. “There was a little barrel there,” he says.

     The session’s starting on a good note. I get about two decent waves to my name, and that’s when the local invasion begins. The same gap-toothed kid from yesterday is out. Actually, most of the kids from yesterday are now out. They all sit at the top of the wave. These gangly little kids. You watching them, thinking, There is no way that dude’s gonna get that wave, but then he does. They’re just so light that they can paddle into anything.

     Bri’s in the hornet’s nest. I don’t know how she can maintain without wanting to kill someone. On every wave she goes for, someone’s on it.

     Mark goes for an inside wave. I’m going for it, too, but I pull out because he has it, but he doesn’t get the drop. Now I’m mad at myself. How many fucking times have I been through the same thing?

     Sitting inside wide, I get more and more discouraged by the second. I have diarrhea from something I ate, so I take a shit right there in the lineup. All I can do is watch. I mean, I could paddle to the top, but it’s just not the way I enjoy surfing. It’s not fun to have to battle.

     I watch one of the German’s, Boris, who I’ve been pretty cool with since day one. He gets a set wave, passes me, and rides all the way to the inside. On his way back out, he robs my priority and takes another wave right next to me, one I was waiting for. “You just had one!” I say as he passes me again. Motherfucker. It’s the straw that breaks the donkey’s back.

     I leave my perch and sit at the top. When Boris returns, I sit on him and his girlfriend. I try to catch a wave, scratch out, and then I sit right back on him. The next outside set comes, and I paddle battle with him to the outside. He paddles over the shoulder, and I take the wave for myself.

     After my ride is done, I don’t feel like going back to the top of the wave again. Just too many people. It’s like sitting outside of Lowers, watching the flies on shit just go for it. A little super grom, barely four feet tall, stalls on his backhand and gets a little coverup in one of the inside slots. I couldn’t believe it. Textbook. I mean, this little dude knew exactly what the wave was gonna do.

     Once the sun sets, people start leaving, but there are still about ten people out. I sit at the top of the wave. It’s my turn. I need a set. Boris is gone, Edo comes out, and a few other Euros who I don’t know.

     It’s getting so dark that I mistime the sets, either being too deep or too far out. Edo gets two waves under my priority. I’m beyond pissed at this point. It’s the dark side of stoke, the anti stoke. It’s one of the worst places I can be.

     Pretty soon Bri and I are gonna be the last ones here, so I give up my position and start paddling towards the inside. Oh, and I also forgot to mention that Bri gets way more waves than I do this session.

     I fail to even catch a last wave. It’s the paddle of shame in Java. Bri’s on the shore waiting for me while I flounder through the whitewash.

     My aura is negative. Randy and Bri know it. I just want to put this day behind me. I think about how I can possibly remedy this. The crowd factor is worse than California. There’s no etiquette here. I hate surfing like a fucking dick, but is that what it’s gonna take to get some waves around here? I try to be stoked. That’s how I am when I’m home. I hoot people, I wait for my turn, I call people in, but these unwritten rules that I abide by don’t count here. Maybe I do need to say, “Fuck it,” and surf like a dick.

     For dinner, Randy, Bri, and I go to the nasi pecel vendor at the night market and eat some fried tofu for appetizers before the main dish. It’s called tahuisi, which is fried tofu with vegetables in the center of it. I didn’t realize how hungry I was. All I know is that that first bite of food makes everything appear like things aren’t so bad after all.